A Diffrent Beggining
by Whistling Fish
Summary: Batman Begins, but lets make the story a little different: no longer a child's obsession, but a man's choice.
1. Chapter 1

Time Warner & DC Comics own all the main characters in this story. I'm just borrowing them for a while to embellish a fanfiction story, no monies will be made from this story; mores' the pity.

Batman Begins, but lets make the story a little different: no longer a child's obsession, but a man's choice.

A Different Beginning

By

Whistling Fish

The large sleek sports car glided to a halt in front of stone steps leading up to the front door of Wayne Manor. Its driver removed his fashionable pilot's sunglasses and peered up at the second floor window: he knew the office of Thomas Wayne, multi millionaire owner of Wayne Enterprises, lay behind the elegant stained glass. Bruce always felt strangely inadequate and fearful when entering the presence of Thomas Wayne. A man who was a legend in his own life time.

Bruce stepped out of the car; his lean, athletic, six foot two inch frame was elegantly covered in a dark business suit: he looked every bit the heir to this stately pile.

"Bruce!" A dark haired young woman yelled as she almost flew down the steps flinging her arms about his neck.

"Claire, what are you doing here; why aren't you at school?"

"I graduated last Summer!" she stated in exasperation. "I'm no longer a little girl you know."

Bruce smiled down at her. To him she'd always be the little girl tagging behind her older brothers. The last baby in a much loved brood doted on by both parents and loved by all the family.

"I've been at college for almost a year. Anyway what are you doing here the middle of a working week? Does M.I.T. let all its handsome, young professors work part time? Gotham State makes its professors earn their salaries! "She ducked as Bruce made a playful swipe at her head.

"Well, the folks at M.I.T thought I should break the news to my family in person." Bruce stated.

"What news?"

Bruce leaned into the car and pulled out a letter: he handed it to the girl!"

Her eyes widened as she read it.

_"The Nobel prize committee has the honor to informing Professor Bruce Wayne, that he has been nominated for Nobel Prize for Medicine in recognition of his work in micro electronics in the treatment of paralysis..." _

"Oh my: dad will be so proud of you!" With that she turned and ran up the steps dragging Bruce after her.

Claire charged in to her father's office, skidded to a halt next to his chair and thrust the letter at him. "Dad, read that! You won't believe it, isn't it outstanding?"

Her father, used to her boundless enthusiasm and unorthodox entry into his place of work, read the letter. A look of amazement was replaced by one of pleasure. Then he glancing up at a much loved young man, stretched out his hand and firmly shook Bruce's hand.

"Well Done, Master Bruce! This is fantastic news and so well deserved. I'm so proud of you lad." Alfred stated.

Bruce smiled at his friend and mentor, Alfred's praise meant a lot to him.

"Thanks Alfred. But it's only a nomination, I may not win!"

"Yes, I suppose you are right, best not crack open the best bottle of champagne just yet. Seeing as you are just one, of the three nominees for one of the world's most prestigious prizes. I mean, what's so special about that. Best make it the second best bottle." Alfred said shaking his head.

Bruce grinned. "Stick it on ice Alfred; I'm just going up to show father the letter."

Bruce knocked at his father's door and felt the usual knot in is stomach as the gruff voice orders him to enter.

Bruce crossed from the door to stand in front of his father's desk. It took all his concentration to stop him shuffling his feet while he waited for his father to look up from the document he was reading.

"Bruce, I didn't have a meeting scheduled with you today, did I?" He asked, his eyes skimming over the current page of his diary.

"Err, no Sir, but I thought you may be interested in this."

Bruce held the letter out.

Thomas Wayne looked at the proffered document and reluctantly took it from his son's hand.

Bruce watched his father's face hoping to see some sign of pleasure or at least pride as he read the letter. But Thomas Wayne's face remained unchanged. Coldly he glanced up at his son.

"When will you know if you have won?" He asked.

"In a month"

"Arr... right" Thomas said making a note in his diary. He passed the letter back to Bruce, and his eyes slid back to the work on his desk.

Bruce stared at his father in disbelief. Anger welled up inside him. He spun around and left the room feeling hurt as much as angry. Why had he thought today would be any different from his past encounters with his father? From his first report card with straight A's to today's prestigious news nothing, absolutely nothing he ever did impressed his father.

He pulled the door shut behind him. "I didn't kill her; it wasn't my fault she died!" He muttered angrily. He turned away; not seeing the figure stood in the shadow of the wall, and headed towards his room.

Claire had been waiting for Bruce, but seeing his distress she headed quickly back down to her

"Why Alfred? Why is it my fault? I didn't kill my mother. She made the choice! So why does he blame me?"

"I know, Master Bruce, it's never been your fault, no one ever blamed you." He reassured the young man, the same way he'd had comfort him all through Bruce's life. I don't think he blames you, he just cannot accepted that your mother died giving him the son he always wanted. The guilt he feels has made it difficult for him to relate to anyone; I sorry to say and especially to you."

Bruce looked out of the window; he didn't want anyone, not even Alfred to see the hot tears that were pricking his eyes.

"Bruce, when your mother delayed treatment for leukemia, so that you could be born healthy, she knew the risks. She never told your father, because she desperately wanted to give him a son. If she'd had the treatment as soon as she was diagnosed; then you would not have survived and she could never have had any children. She wanted your father to have a son to carry on the Wayne family name, a boy to be proud of!"

"Well, she need not have bothered; because no matter what I do, or how much I achieve, he'll never be proud of me."

"I'm sure he's proud of you master Bruce. What parent wouldn't be proud of a son like you?" Alfred smiled at the troubled young man."I'm proud of you, and so is Leslie we're proud of all our children; especially you son."

Bruce turned and smiled at the man who had truly been his dad. Thomas Wayne had been his father by an accident of genetics. Alfred and Leslie Pennyworth had been his parents by choice. They had always treated him as a son.

"I've called the clinic and told Leslie and the boys that you're home. I've also told them you've had some good news. I thought you'd like to tell them the details over dinner at Mario's."

Bruce smiled; Mario's had always been the venue of choice for a family celebration. Bruce couldn't pass the small, family run, restaurant without being assailed by a warm happy feeling of belonging. From celebrating his first day at school, Leslie & Alfred's wedding, each new Childs arrival and all their successors, to him gaining his professorial chair at M.I.T. the extended Pennyworth family had made Mario's their special place.

The friendly hustle and bustle of Mario's was working its usual magic on Bruce's damaged self esteem. Robert, Steve and Leslie had listened with wide eyed astonishment to Bruce's news. The letter had been passed around to each member of the clan to read and reread. Robert a skilled surgeon like his mother and Steve a radiographer both looked at their older, surrogate, brother with a mixture of pride and awe. "Hey Bruce, all those extra hours of Maths coaching I gave you paid off then!" Robert laughed. Always behind with his Maths at college, he'd turned to his big brother for help." Bruce laughed at the good natured teasing. His family's pride in him washed away his pain and most of his doubts; yet still deep down there was the niggling suspicion he'd never be good enough.

Thomas Wayne read once again the Washington Post, London Times and the New York Herald; all three papers were running profiles of the nominees for the Nobel Prize for Medicine. One thing all these prestigious papers agreed on was the favorite in the field was the young M.I.T. Professor Bruce Wayne, who had pioneered the use of micro electronics to enable paralyzed patients to walk again. Thomas studied the photograph of his son working with young women who was stood using two sticks, her wheelchair left abandoned in the corner of the shot. A look of pure pleasure and gratitude on her face. A tear rolled down Thomas' cheek as he glanced at Mather's photo stood on the corner of his desk. "Look what our boy has been doing Martha!" He muttered. Then he cut article and photo out of the New York Herald, took a small key out of his waistcoat pocket and used it to open the bottom draw of his desk. He placed the cutting in a two inch thick file with the word Bruce neatly written across it. The cutting now formed part of Thomas' collection, each piece of paper noted an important event or achievement in his son's life. His eyes focused on Martha's photograph, "He's so like you my love" Thomas muttered. "Every time I see him he reminds me of how much I miss you." Thomas shut and relocked the draw, turned off his desk light and went up to bed.

As Thomas got to the stairs, a shadow moved in the Library catching his eye. No one was supposed to be in the house, Thomas moved towards the door, "Bruce, is that you?" he called as he reached for the light switch. Those were the last words Thomas Wayne ever spoke. The blow that felled him crushed his left temple killing him instantly. A security guard checking an open door from the garden raised the alarm. Bruce Wayne arrived home to find the manor under siege by police.


	2. Motive & Suspicion

Motives and Suspicion

"So there was no one in the house apart from Dr Wayne?" The tired looking Lieutenant asked once again.

Alfred shook his head. "No, apart from my family and myself, only Dr Wayne and Master Bruce, when he is home, live in the main house. Thornton, the gardener, and his wife Molly, who is the cook here, live in the lodge along with their daughter Sally. The other staff all live local and start work between 6 and 9 am."

"And Professor Wayne, your family and yourself were all at Mario's celebrating his nomination for the Nobel Prize?"

Alfred nodded.

"Why wasn't Dr Wayne there celebrating his son's success?" the lieutenant asked.

"Dr Wayne had several business worries that were fully occupying his mind. He didn't feel able to break off from his work. I'm sure he had a celebration in mind for a later date."

"You mentioned Business worries?"

"Mmmm yes, over the past few weeks Dr Wayne has been very worried about irregularities in cargo manifests of ship in the Wayne Industries fleet. In fact just two nights ago he had me take him to the shipping office at 2am to collect copies of shipping movements, orders placed and cargo delivered."

"And this struck you as unusual? I thought big time industrialists worked all hours?"

"They do, but they don't usually break into the shipping offices of their own companies in the middle of the night." Alfred replied.

"Break in! What was Dr Wayne worried about?"

"I believe, he was worried that Wayne Industries' ships were being used to transport drugs into the country. Also that the main man in the drugs ring is a highly placed on the board of Wayne Enterprise." Alfred replied.

"Did Dr Wayne confide any names to you?"

Alfred shook his head. "But it was someone on the board, of that I'm sure. Dr Wayne had several files on board members he was looking at. They were in the safe. But they are gone now along with everything else that was in there."

A commotion in the hall caused both men to look up. John Reynolds commissioner of police was stood in the majestic hall way, he was dressed in a dinner suite and looked more like a guest in search of a party rather than a law officer. "Well Gordon," he barked "walk me through the scene."

Jim Gordon sighed mentally, he'd hope for a good couple of hours to put a case together before the inept Reynolds put his big size 14s all over the scene.

"As far as we can tell, Dr Wayne was in here, it appears he was updating his scrap book." Gordon pointed to the Washington Post in the waste basket then to the folder open on the desk.

"You found the folder on the desk, as if the victim had heard a noise and went to investigate?" Reynolds asked.

"No, I don't think so; the file was on the desk, like it had been tossed there by someone searching for something. Files and letters were on the floor, the desk had been ransacked."

"And the safe was forced?"

Gordon nodded.

"Is there much missing?"

"As far as we can ascertain a few thousand in cash, a couple of hundred thousand in bonds, a few jewels, nothing remarkable and some business papers." Gordon replied.

"So, a straight a forward robbery gone wrong then. The safe is pretty sophisticated so best pull in any knows cracksmen we have of in the area. Check the local fences for the jewels."

"With respect Sir, I think there may be more to this than stolen jewels. Dr Wayne was worried about possible drugs trafficking being organized by someone on the board of Wayne Enterprises."

Reynolds looked at Gordon as thought he had just crawled from under a rock. "Gordon, stick to the robbery theory, don't try making this into some big conspiracy. You see conspiracy and corruption wherever you look. That maybe how you used to work in Philadelphia, but in Gotham we find it's best to solve crime the old fashioned way by arresting the perps."

"But chief I think ..."

"Don't think Gordon; just do as I tell you!" Reynolds growled menacingly. "Now get this place processed, then get out and let these people grieve in peace."

Gordon nodded to Alfred as he and his men took their leave for the day.

Reynolds was stood with Bruce. "It seems to be a robbery that got out of hand. Rest assured we'll get the man who did this. Gordon is a good cop. He'll have the man very soon."

Bruce was sat at his at his father's desk slowly turning the pages of the file his father had kept about him. Everything was there, from his first steps to the item from the Washington Post. Absolutely disbelief and sorrow were evident in his whole body language. His father had so obviously been proud of him! So why had he never told him so.

Leslie and Alfred were stood looking at the young man concerned.

"Are you going to tell him about the drug smuggling?" Leslie asked.

Alfred shook his head. "No, not at the moment I think he's got enough to cope with. We'll see what the police come up with and I'll make some discrete enquires of my own."

Leslie looked at her husband with concern. "Alfred, you'll take care won't you!"

Alfred nodded, "I'll be very careful, whoever's behind this is playing for keeps".


	3. No Way Forward

No Way Forward

The seedy bar on 4th and Main was not the usual haunt of either man. But prudence and a need to meet unobserved meant the smelly, rat infested hole; the hang out of petty criminals, down and outs and drunks suited them both. Jim Gordon wore an old mac over his rumpled suit; to any casual observer he was just another low life trying to find the answer to his problems in the bottom of a Whiskey glass. The man opposite dressed in old stained jeans and a ripped sweater was a million miles away from the elegant figure he usually portrayed as the head of household at Wayne Manor.

"You'll have heard they've arrested a man, Mark Tyler, he's an addict who supports his needs by committing small time jewel thefts." Gordon reported. "He was found with the diamond necklace from Dr Wayne's safe in his possession."

"Has Tyler admitted killing Dr Wayne?" Alfred asked.

Gordon shook his head "Claims he was supplied with a fix and told to look after a parcel by his supplier as payment."

"How did you find him so fast?"

"Reynolds arrested him, acting on a tip off."

Alfred looked at Gordon hard "He didn't do it. You know that don't you?" Alfred said

Gordon sighed and nodded.

"So far I've come up with two names," Alfred said, "Paul Zacarius and Donald Laraby. Both men hold position on the board that would enable them to arrange for drugs to be smuggled."

"But you have no concrete proof against either man?"

Alfred shook his head. "I've dug as deep as I can and I cannot find any proof of drug smuggling, but there is something. I found that several document have been removed from the files. I'm not sure if Dr Wayne took them or if they were removed after Dr Wayne was killed."

"Does anyone suspect you are investigating Dr Wayne's death?" Gordon asked eyeing the man opposite with concern. "Every time I try to reopen the investigating all hell breaks loose and Reynolds finds me enough paper work to keep me off the streets for a month."

"I'm not sure," Alfred replied "I have had a feeling that I'm being watched for the last few days. But nothing more than a feeling. I'm more worried about Master Bruce, he has been asking some awkward questions."

"Is Professor Wayne aware that you doubt the official version of his father's death?"

Alfred considered carefully "Yes, I think he's aware that I don't share Commissioner Reynolds's view that the right man has been arrested. But not why. I have found something that may help us, some papers relating to a ship due in to Gotham next week." Alfred slipped his hand in his pocket.

Suddenly the window behind Alfred shattered, Gordon saw the man sat in front of him go rigid, a look of shock on his face. A large red stain started to spread on the front of his jersey. Then Alfred fell from his seat. Gordon drew his gun and took cover behind a table as more shots peppered the bar. Carefully he edged towards the window; a large black car was speeding away down the street.

Other customers ran screaming from the room. In the confusion Gordon lost sight of Alfred. When he reached him the papers Alfred had withdrawn from his pocket had gone.


	4. Another Way

Another Way

Bruce sat listening to Jim Gordon explain why his whole world seemed to be disintegrating. The words seemed to follow the hypnotic rhythm of the beeping from the heart monitor, attached to his friend's chest.

Bruce wiped his hand over his face and his haunted eyes fixed on Gordon. "Reynolds said this was a drive by gone wrong. Just an unfortunate situation, Alfred was in the wrong place at the wrong time. "Bruce muttered.

Leslie's eyes lifted from her husband's face and focused on Bruce. "There's a lot of that happening!" she said bitterly. "Bruce, your father was looking into drug smuggling in Gotham and he ended up dead. Alfred was trying to find out who wanted Thomas' dead and this..." her hand closed tightly over her husbands as her voice choked off, "for me that's just too much of a coincidence."

Bruce nodded. "So what are the police doing about it?" Bruce asked.

Gordon eyed the young man carefully "Nothing; as far as Reynolds is concerned your father's case is closed as they have caught the suspect. And they're classing Mr. Pennyworth as an unfortunate bystander in a gang motivated drive by shooting. The official line on which is, we are still investigating, or in Gotham police department speak... case closed" Gordon added bitterly.

Bruce, looked from Gordon, to Leslie then to the figure laid on the bed, "No way is this case closed! I'm going to speak to Reynolds."

"That won't do you any good; Reynolds is in their pockets!" Gordon said bitterly.

"Then I'll speak to the Mayor!"

"Bruce," Leslie said quietly "you haven't been listening. They're all in on it. This goes too deep. Too many people have a finger in the pie!"

"So we just let them get away with murder and attempted murder? They killed my father and nearly killed your husband! Are you seriously telling me we should do nothing?"

Gordon looked at the young man with pity. "Bruce, there's nothing we can do! All official channels are blocked."

"There has to be another way!" Bruce insisted "How about central government, the FBI?"

Gordon shook his head, "Bruce, this is being covered up by the whole Gotham establishment. Unless those responsible are caught red handed; actually with the drugs in their possession then we have had it!"

Bruce walked out of the hospital room in a daze. He shook his head he'd spent his entire life in Gotham and had never understood a single thing about the place. For God sake, he'd never understood anything his own family, lest of all his father. Now he was head of Wayne Enterprises, a multi Billionaire and he was lost in a sea of corporate corruption and covered up murders.

What he had discovered was his father had worked hard to keep Wayne Enterprises honest. He'd surrounded himself with trustworthy men at the top. Men like Lucius Fox, head of finance; Lucius was guiding him through the company's complexity.

Lucius who had started as an office boy. With no qualifications, other than a determination to better himself. A young man who had one morning been caught asleep, over a book, by his boss at Wayne Enterprises and fired. When as a frightened sixteen year old he had been taking his few meager belonging out through the doors he'd tripped up scattering his ragged collection of second hand books, on business management, across the sidewalk. He'd heard laughter from the door man and the security guards who had escorted him out. Tears of despair had been flowing down his face. He'd dreamed of getting out of the ghetto, becoming a man of business, being someone! Office boy had been his first step, now it was all gone. Someone had picked up one of his books and was looking at it. Lucius saw a hand pick up another book. Then a soft voice had asked, "Do you find Fletcher's theories on a corporate finical model sustainable?" Lucius had looked up, the tall man wasn't mocking him he was interested in his view. "No," he'd answered "his view on self perpetuating income flow seems to make no sense at all!" The man had laughed. "Young man, we should talk, it's nice to find someone who can read this great tome and not get mesmerized by the rubbish it contains." Lucius had started that day being thrown out of his job as office boy and ended it as a junior executive enrolled at Gotham State Business School. Thomas had even taken him to his tailor and bought him two new suites. Lucius Fox owed everything to Thomas Wayne, and Thomas and his son had his complete loyalty.

Bruce had spent half the night going through Alfred and his father's papers. Two names kept cropping up, but nothing concrete against either man. On Alfred's jotter the name of a ship; the San Mari Polo, was underlined three times. Bruce called up the information on the ship, "Due in Gotham next Friday" he muttered "Carrying car parts, car parts from Afghanistan!"

Lucius listened to Bruce without commenting. His face registered pain at the mention of Thomas' murder and anger when he was told about the possible link to drugs. Anger but not disbelief, Bruce was relieved to see. Bruce mentioned the names of his key suspects and Lucius brow creased in thought.

"Paul Zacarius and Donald Laraby are both board members. Paul is Phillip Zacarius' grandson. When the old man died he inherited his grandfather's seat on the board. Donald joined us after the take over of Laraby Shipping. His seat on the board was the sweetener for the deal. You're sure it has to be one of those two?"

Bruce nodded.

"Then I'll do a full financial check on them. See what little secrets the money trail throws up. It's hard to cover up every trace of money movements. Take heart Bruce, after all it was a money trail that finally nailed Al Capone."

Bruce returned to the hospital around lunchtime. Nurses were in Alfred's room changing dressings. He wondered down to the relatives' room. Two young children were sat watching a video. Claire had been sat watching them. She lifted a tear stained face towards Bruce. "Pity he isn't real," she said nodding towards the TV screen, "if we had the Raven on the case maybe we'd get truth and justice as well." Bruce hugged the young girl to him and watched as his boyhood hero once again donned hood and black cloak as he headed out into the night to achieve what the police couldn't, Truth and Justice for all. Suddenly Bruce's eyes opened wide, no... it was a silly idea. Or was it?


	5. New Beggining

New Beginning

Bruce entered the elevator that led down to his lab in the basement of Wayne Manor. This had always been his sanctum. Thomas Wayne had provided his son with a lab/workshop well away from the main household. Here the boy could experiment to his hearts content without interfering with the rest of the house.

The elevator doors slid open, not into a man made room, but into a cavern deep under the foundations of the house. His grandfather had used this area to develop most of his prototypes and deep within the surrounding caverns he had tested them before submitting patents. No industrial spy ever got the drop on Joseph Wayne.

Thomas had built his empire on his father's successes. But Wayne Enterprises had a research and development division out in the Gotham Desert. So the old labs had been abandoned, that was until Bruce took them over.

Down here Bruce had developed his first gadgets. As a boy he'd loved exploring the caverns. Bruce rummaged in a box and found what he was looking for. To aid his explorations he developed a gas power grappling hook. The line from the hook was gossamer thin and the hook was a miniature peg with retractable grapples. Bruce checked the gas supply, strapped the devices to his wrist, pointed at the roof of the cave, some 30ft above him, and pressed the trigger. The device shot its bolt high into the roof. Bruce tugged the line to check it was secure then pressed the trigger again. Instantly he was dragged up towards the roof as the line retracted. Bruce, let go of the trigger and took a deep breath as he looked down at the floor below. He gently squeezed the trigger again and he slowly descended. Bruce spun the line in a loose arc and the grapples retracted. He pressed the trigger again and the loose line was wound back in. Bruce smiled, "Knew I'd find a use for this on day!" he muttered to himself.

On the far wall his prototype mobility suite, his first attempt enabling disabled people to move, hung almost forgotten. Made from Kevlar, so as to be strong but lightweight, it incorporated microchips to drive a series of miniature motors. The microchips intercepted the smallest of movements and magnified them ten fold. This suite had been developed to help a disabled person move paralyzed limbs. But modified Bruce decided it could help an able bodied person seem super human.

Bruce set to work on the suite. Several hours later he pulled on the black Kevlar garment. Bruce walk over to the massive oak table that served as a work bench, flexed his gloved hand, before placing it around one of the thick table legs, to activate the controller, and lifted the table with ease. He lowered the table, flexed his knees and with no effort at all jumped up on to the table.

"The Raven lives!" Bruce laughed.

Just then something small and black swooped down and brushed past Bruce's face causing him to recoil back and fall off the table. Bruce hit his head hard on the cave floor. He sat up dazed and hurt and watched the small creature swoop low before soaring up to roost, upside down, on the cave roof. "Maybe the Raven should be a Bat!" Bruce muttered "Either way he needs head protection." he added rubbing his bruised head.

Bruce pulled his old caving helmet off the hook on the side wall. He looked at it closely. "I need head protection, a mask as a disguise and some sort of sound magnifier."

The sound magnifier would be easy just a straight forward, microphone with miniature amplifiers. Bruce once again spotted the bat. "Why not?" he said to himself as he mixed the resins to adapt the helmet into suitable head gear.

Three hours later it was complete. Headgear fit for a vigilante. Incorporating a mask and directional microphones and all shaped like a bats head. Putting the microphones in the pointed ear has amused the young man. Leaving, the new improved helmet to cure Bruce hung up his suite and pained on a bat motif on the chest, if he was going to be the "Bat" he should have a calling card, after all the Raven had always left the feather from a ravens wing as his sign. A bit of bat fur just wouldn't do, but a calling card with the bat emblem would. He then spray painted his new bat helmet black.

An insistent ringing of the phone disturbed Bruce's work. He listened intently to the person on the other end of the line. Grabbed his jacket from the chair and was quickly heading back to the hospital.


	6. A Way Forward

A Way Forward

Claire was stood outside the main hospital doors waiting for him, she ran to Bruce and hugged him tight, "Dad's awake, they say he'll be alright." she told him excitedly.

Bruce felt like a large weight had been lifted off his chest. But it was soon replaced by worry. What if the person responsible for Alfred's shooting tried to kill him again. Alfred wouldn't be safe in Gotham until the culprit was caught.

He placed an arm around Claire and escorted her into the hospital. They took the elevator to the 3rd floor, as they got near Alfred's room Bruce could see Alfred awake and talking to his wife and sons.

"Good to see you back with us Alfred." Bruce said as he entered the room.

The man in the bed smiled and nodded, "It's good to be back!"

Leslie turned towards Bruce. She was smiling, but her eyes radiated worry. She too had been considering the possibility that there could be another attempt to silence Alfred.

Bruce listened as Leslie updated him on Alfred's condition. "Well, just as soon as we get the OK I'm sending you all over to Switzerland, the fresh air will help Alfred recuperate. And few weeks out of Gotham will do you all good." Bruce said.

Leslie smiled at him, "Thank you, love, that would be a great help. I'd be happier if we were well out of this!"

Stephen was looking from his mother to Bruce, with a worried frown. "Do you think they will try and get to dad again?"

Bruce nodded "And if they can't get to Alfred directly, they could try to get at him through one of you. You'll be safer out of the country. Until then, I'll arrange for Alfred to be taken back to the Manor where you'll all be safer, after all we do have enough doctors of our own to look after him." he said forcing a smile. " I'll arrange round the clock security for you all." he assured them.

It took Bruce just under an hour to arrange for Alfred to be taken to Wayne Manor and arranging body guards and round the clock security, until he could get them safely out of Gotham.

Within an hour of getting Alfred home and settled Bruce called Lucius Fox and asked for a meeting. Lucius and Bruce had been having regular meetings at the Manor since his father's funeral. Lucius had taken it upon himself to make sure Bruce understood how Wayne Enterprises operated. So another meeting wouldn't seem anything out of the ordinary.

Bruce escorted Lucius into the library, all the time they we discussing Wayne enterprise assets. Bruce had already had the whole house swept for bugs and found it clean. He motioned Lucius to stand near the door. Bruce ran the bug location scanner over him and his case. The dial on the scanner gave telltale reading as it passed over the case. Bruce showed the dial to Lucius who raised his eyebrows. They continued discussing asset locations as Lucius opened the case and removed the files he wanted. Bruce checked these with the bug detector and gave Lucius the thumbs up. Both men walked away from the case and took the elevator down to the lab below.

"This place is out of reach of even the most sophisticated sonic ear, or any other eavesdropping device." Bruce assured his friend as he led him towards the office. "So what have you got to tell me that has someone so worried they bug your case?"

"This isn't definitive Bruce, after all I've only had 24 hours to work on it but so far Donald Laraby seems to be the front runner. Several months ago he started paying out a large sum of money each month in cash. It started out as fifty thousand, now it's up to a couple of hundred thousand dollars."

"Blackmail?" Bruce asked.

Lucius shrugged "No way of telling, cash payments, leave no trail unless you know the recipient. But, just before your father was shot, there was a $250,000 deposit of cash back into Donald Laraby's account. And a similar sum was paid in the day Alfred was shot. In themselves the payments aren't proof of anything but they are anomalies".

Bruce nodded thoughtfully "One's I'm going to find the answer to."

"Good luck Bruce, because no matter how hard I tried I couldn't find where this money has been going. So how do you intend finding out may I enquire?"

Bruce smiled. "I'm going to ask nicely?" he said eyeing the suite hung up in the shadows of the far wall.


End file.
